


Artistic Vision

by Born In Captivity- Ineligible to Release (Jashasedai)



Series: Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers [48]
Category: Formula E RPF, GP2 Series RPF, formula 1 - Fandom
Genre: AU - Tame Racing Drivers, Alternate Universe, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 13:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashasedai/pseuds/Born%20In%20Captivity-%20Ineligible%20to%20Release
Summary: In an AU where a secret species is used as Racing Drivers, brief cruelties can have long term effects.Seven's migraines interfere with his photography, but he learned long ago to hide the pain.





	Artistic Vision

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Tame Racing Drivers AU. Read the series summary.
> 
> The basics are these- All professional racing drivers and riders have double who do the actual racing. The doubles are kept in stables as livestock until it is time to race. They are telepathic and form a telepathic bond with the human who shares their name.
> 
> This is a one-shot, but may be expanded if interest is shown.
> 
>  
> 
> Tiger is Pierre Gasly's RD.

**Seven’s Photography**

**Bahrain GP2- 2014**

 

‘24 Hours, what do you get?’ Sang Seven, ‘Another day older and closer to death,’ His voice rose in volume and deepened in pitch, ‘Don’t call me to the needles, cause I can’t go, I owe more wins to the team I drive for.’  He moved around the side of the table in his room, arranging the helmet strap a bit differently.

He saw, then, the little monitor flaw in the bottom right hand corner of his vision.  He looked to the other side, but the flaw didn’t move with his eyes.

It wasn’t the pain from his surgeries that presented the problem.  It was the headaches. He sighed.

He stripped out of his shirt and down to his shorts.  He sent to Tiger. ‘Will you call me in an hour?’

‘Of course.  Spots again?’

‘Yes.’ Seven opened the sleeping cupboard door and stared at the collage of photographs stuck to the inside.

‘The medic should help you…’ Tiger didn't sound certain.  Trainers could be a Racing Driver’s biggest help or worst mistake.  You never knew which until you either had a trophy in your hand or a needle in your arm.

‘If he finds out I can’t always see, you know what that will mean.’  Seven ran his fingers over a well smudged picture of Stoffel.

‘Go to sleep, Seven.  I’ll wake you up.’

Seven stepped inside the cupboard and closed the door.  Recalibrating usually stopped the headaches. He looked at the pictures.  The top half of the door was plastered with pictures of Stoffel and of Seven’s friends.  The lower half, that he couldn’t see easily from his position standing in the cupboard, were landscapes from tracks.  Interspersed were still life photos of things like chairs and tools and the light shining on the floor of the garage.

He crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

The door opened.

He opened his eyes.

‘Are you back?’ Tiger asked, ‘It is nearly an hour, but not yet.’

‘Stoffel is here.’  Seven answered, slowly, still adjusting to the sudden waking.  His head pain was gone and his vision was clear again.

‘Seven.’  Stoffel was leaning on the cupboard door, smiling wryly.  ‘Why are you asleep in the middle of the day?’

He didn't answer, just ducked into Stoffel’s arms.  He didn't say what he thought. Don’t ask questions that I must lie to answer?

It was one thing to stop the lie and say nothing, but keeping the sadness out of his rev was too difficult.

‘Not feeling good?’  Stoffel put his hand on Seven’s forehead and closed his eyes like he was listening.  ‘You don’t feel hot.’

He didn’t feel hot.  He saw something, though.

The light in the stall was still off, but the light from the head was on and the door was open, casting a bar of light into the stall and onto Stoffel.  ‘Hold perfectly still.’

Seven got the camera.  Stoffel hadn’t moved from where Seven had left him, still looking towards where Seven’s face would have been in the cupboard.  He stood to one side and examined the light sharpening the planes of Stoffel’s’ face. He raised the camera and took a picture.  Half of it would come out too dark to see clearly, and the other half would be brilliantly lit, contemplative Stoffel. His perfect subject.

His headache was forgotten.  He told Stoffel he could move and started talking to him about the photo he was planning of the helmet and shoes.  He couldn’t wait until this film developed.

He could see it now.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment.
> 
> If you are having a hard time thinking what to say, please consider the following (feel free to leave your letter of choice.)
> 
> A) I like this  
> B) This is awesome  
> C) What will happen next?  
> D) I didn't think this was interesting.
> 
> Real People don't belong to me.
> 
> This story is fiction and is no reflection on anyone in it. The story does


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